Death by Design
by Mochassassin
Summary: The thespian is shrewd and so full of potential, that her own realisation of her talent led to her downfall. "I design death so fashionably but never did I foresee the day when someone else would design mine. I am the thespian and this is the tale of my short-lived legacy."
1. Chapter 1

**_Disclaimer: All these wonderful characters are owned by Ubisoft and many are of course, owned by history._**

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_Lysistrata_ means _Λυσιστράτη_, "Army-disbander" in Attic Greek.

_Lysistrata _is also one of the few surviving plays written by Aristophanes.

But most importantly, Lysistrata is my name. I am, as my name suggests, a woman who disbands armies of men. I have many methods of doing this and they all lead to death. It is my job. It is who I am. I am a calculated killer and not praising me for this talent of mine would be a sin. I design death so fashionably but never did I foresee the day when someone else would design mine.

I am the thespian and this is the tale of my short-lived legacy.

My evanescent adventure begins on a winter's evening in the Topkapi palace where a lavish feast was being held in honor of the re-elected Grand Vizier, Hadim Ali Pasha. The Ottomans took pride in making their traditional dishes as cultured as possible which was evident in everything your eyes feasted upon when you looked at the table; bowls of terine soup with chestnuts and root spinach soup lay at the two ends of the oak table, billowing with light swirls of steam. Gerdaniyye, shrimp pilak and grilled carcassian cheese with oyster mushrooms lay circling the bowls of soup as hungry hands belonging to foreign dignitaries attacked them. I am, of course, exaggerating. Any foreign dignitary who acted in such a savage manner against _anything_ belonging to Sultan Bayezid II would be escorted out into the deadly darkness with nothing but white snow to guide his way back home. After all, they were granted the honour to sit on dining chairs in the company of the Sultan himself while the viziers had to make do with the embroidered but plump cushions on the floors...all the viziers except Hadim Ali Pasha.

"That _sahte_ (bastard) has managed to climb into Sultan Bayezid's lap twice in the past decade and by doing what? Twirling his oak cane and whipping adolescent boys." observed Damat Ali Pasha, a fellow vizier who I had befriended during my conquest.

He was leaning against the wall at the far side of the spacious room, observing the Grand Vizier with disdain. Hadim Ali Pasha was a healthy-looking man, boasting good looks but not as sun-hardened and aged as the Sultan.

Damat had turned his attention to me, raising a thick, dark eyebrow.  
"What are you doing, _canım_ (dear)?"

"Designing his death." I replied, closing my eyes and entering the realm of my mind which was forbidden territory to anybody who intended to trespass.

"The usual, then."

"_Evet_ (yes)."

Using physical assault to kill Hadim would be risky as he was broad and tall but there were other ways to make sure death called his name quietly at such an event - asphyxiation and poison to name two. Asphyxiation would require my target to be alone and my touch would need to be delicate. That particular design would take time to plan, especially if the Grand Vizier had no intention of leaving the room. Poison would be the viable recourse in such a situation - the room was crowded enough to hide the killer, the poison itself could be slipped into the food with ease and the deadly weapon merely took seconds to work its magic.

I calculated the distance between myself and a servant and that servant and Hadim. Keeping in mind the flow of the crowd as the main course was going to be served, I made my move. First, I cornered a servant who would, prior to our conversation, have been informed of any particular dietary needs. In this case, Hadim Ali Pasha preferred fish to meat. Therefore he would be served the sea bass biryan which consisted of a whole roast sea bass stuffed with walnuts and spices and served with a saffron and rosewater dressing. The walnuts was my personal touch; the last stroke of paint a painter added to his canvas before he decided his art was complete. I knew all about the Grand Vizier and the effect of nuts on his body which caused him to suffer a burdensome throat infection. It seems the servant had no idea and gladly allowed me carry out my request of "personally handing the Grand Vizier his food as it would be an honour". Turning my head hastily after receiving the platter of food, I decided a drop of the deadly killer would not be enough. Two or three perhaps would do the trick...maybe even half of the glass vial.

Nobody noticed me slip out to the arched hallway, except Damat who clasped his hands together as a sign to say thank you. I disregarded his gratitude. It had no effect on me. I was carrying out a favour for my Order, not for him. He meant as little to me as a single raindrop did to a field of crops. I would later recant that statement though.

Hadim's eyes lit up at the sight of me in my long white gown. His eyes flickered over my bodice whose beaded trim along the waist and neckline twinkled in the candlelight, synching at the waist. As soon as he analysed my body head to toe with his soft but thin eagle eyes, he bowed his head slightly and took my compliment to heart. Within minutes, he was no more. Within minutes, the atmosphere had changed. Panic ran amock the fearful dignitaries, honorary guests and the young viziers who never suspected such a tragedy to occur in the midst of a celebatory feast. As the Jannissaries escorted Sultan Bayezid and his family out through a back entrance, one of his sons, Ahmet, narrowed his eyes and smiled knowingly. Perhaps he had witnessed what I had done. He had no proof either way. Within the hour, the room was empty except for me, Damat and the dead body of Hadim.

"You are a marvelous _efendim_ (friend), Lysistrata."

"You are welcome."

I relished the way my victim's hands were loosely clutching the neck. It showed struggle and a determination to stay alive. But that was impossible for the man once his death had been designed.

Poisoning a victim was a work of art. The poor soul's death was my masterpiece. I was an artist. The poor soul's death was a theatrical production. I was an actress.


	2. Chapter 2

By sunrise the next glorious morning, I was restless. Restless and amused. If Ahmet had indeed witnessed my crime, my head would have been served on a platter for breakfast at the Topkapi palace by now. I would learn later that I had misread the signs.  
Due to my insomnious inability to sleep when my mind was reveling in delightful confusion, I decided to take a walk. The white, snow-filled streets of Konstantiniyye remained undisturbed except for a few civilians clearing the snow from the paths. The blank canvas of snow was particularly helpful in times like this when I needed answers. The quiet would help me think. But it did not. And instead, I found myself following the booming voice of the local herald.

"_Tüm vatandaşların dikkat _(attention to all citizens)!" he yelled, "Inside information from the beloved Sultan Bayezid's royal officials state that the Grand Vizier, Hadim Ali Pasha was discreetly murdered in the presence of his most dear companions and foreign guests last night."

A small crowd of people had gathered in front of the wooden stand, shivering in the cold. They listened quietly and when required, murmured a low "_Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raa jioon (_truly to Allah (S.A) we belong and truly, to Him we shall return)".

"As of this hour, no witnesses have come forward with any information on who committed this act of brutality and the motive remains unknown. Citizens are required to report to the Janissary headquarters if any information is found. The reward is 6,000 _akçe_".

A smile crept upon my lips. I wished every citizen the very best of luck in finding Hadim Ali Pasha's killer. You must understand how adrenalizing it felt. All the citizens standing around me were painstakingly unaware that their mystery murderer could smell their fear and see each and every hair rising on their neck, mere feet away from them. My short walk had enlightened me and put my mind at rest, only for a short while.  
On approaching my _ev_ (house), I found a parchment folded neatly and stabbed on my door with an arrow. My name was printed beautifully in bold, black ink. I tore the letter off hastily and once I had escaped the blustery, early morning winds, I resumed my previous position on the bed.

The letter read:  
"_Dear lady Lysistrata, I am not ashamed to admit I must be blunt with my advances. You must do the honour of joining me for tonight's evening meal at the palace. We have much to discuss. If you fail to attend, I can assure you that you will be found soon enough, if not with unnecessary force which I do not wish to inflict. I hope to see you after the sun sets.  
With regards,  
Şehzade Ahmet"_

The word 'advances' suggested Prince Ahmet had more on his mind than a simple dinner with an air of common courtesy. But his later sentences implied otherwise; the words were significantly more threatening. He had witnessed my damnable actions and still here I was...in the comfort of my home, living in luxury..._living...alive._ If it was a deal he wished to strike, it would have to be a convincing one. After all, we are all born selfish and to survive, we must embrace that part of ourselves; I lived for myself only and would go to desperate lengths to preserve it.

Restlessness exercised its exasperating power over my body again- the remainder of my morning had been unproductive. No new contract appeared at my doorstep that I could have carried out before the dinner invitation. Even Damat did not come running to me begging desperately to help with a financial situation. Was Ahmet aware of the vizier's involvement in all this? Perhaps 'involvement' was an exaggeration - he was merely a bystander...he had a rubbernecker's gaze in all of this, nothing more. _I_ was the aggressor here. _I_ was the murderer. And then all of a sudden, I felt fear. Fear I hadn't felt since becoming this calculated killer - genuine fear for another human being. I was scared Ahmet had gotten to Damat, the only friend I had in this world. But he too lived in the Palace and would probably be entangled in the murder enquiries along with the other countless viziers in the Sultan's company...that is, if he wasn't dead. A moment of terror passed and I was able to shake off my worries. I was Lysistrata. I disbanded armies of men. I did not have time to waste my thoughts on trivial matters.

Instead, I chose to occupy my hours leading up to the dinner by immersing myself in philosophical law and poetry from Aristophanes and Plato to Yunus Emre and Molla Shemseddin Fenari. My walls were lined with rows of big, leather-bound volumes of literature; a shocking surprise to anyone who rarely entered my premises. I failed to understand the reason behind the surprised gasps. Why so surprised? Logically, a pre-meditated killer would need to have enough knowledge of the outside world to kill its inhabitants, no?

The sky began to darken later on. It was time to make myself presentable for the Şehzade. I chose a crimson, floor-length gown against my better judgement. I had never worn this before but decided that the royal prince deserved to see a glimpse of beautifully intricate, floral appliques on the bodice. That was to be my personal theme of the evening - a delicate rose, not yet blossomed in sexual growth. Of course, that was a facade to hide my nimble fingers which would, in a matter of time, entwine around Ahmet's vulnerable heart and tug it out hungrily.

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_I know the wads of first-person description is very different to my other fanfic, but it's always nice to try something new. I hope they are giving you guys insights into the Thespian's mind. She's not cannibalistic or anything - she's cold, yes, definitely, but there's more to her than that. If you're enjoying it so far, let me know. If you hate it so far, let me know!_


	3. Chapter 3

I would soon discover that I had underestimated Prince Ahmet deeply - he was hasty but calculating nonetheless. Upon my arrival, a handful of foot soldiers were at their feet, ready to help me out of the carriage and lead me through the snow-laden paths. Much of the Topkapi Palace was out of bounds due to safety reasons and I could not help but want to explore its grandiose interior.

"Lady Lysistrata, I am delighted to make your acquaintance," boomed a voice from behind me as I waited curiously with bated breath. The prince stepped out from towering, vibrant doors dressed as a man of such wealth should in shades of amber and emerald green.

"It is my pleasure, Sehzade Ahmet."

It certainly was. Whatever Prince Ahmet had decided concerning my fate would turn out to be a sheer act of folly; first impressions of Ahmet whispered in my ear with satisfaction that under his exterior bravado, he was weak. Under that courteous smile, there were noticeable traces of arrogance - hubris which could have been eradicated in an instant without my hands having to work too much. He approached me slowly with a limp as his Janissaries fixed their eyes on his back with caution. His eyes held a glint of warped malevolance and I saw my own reflection staring back, wondering how much more we would have in common. The prince took my hand and placed a civil kiss on it. I had enough self-control not to blush like a dazed, young girl and in return, lowered my head slightly.

"You look sublime, my lady."

"You are too kind, your grace. Your leg..." I faltered.

He waved off his injury with an air of mismatched dignity stating it was a mere fall down some concrete stairs.

"_Biz rahatsız değil emin olun _(make sure we are not disturbed), Faruk", he ordered his personal guard, upon entering a small dining hall.

To my utmost surprise and relief, a friendly face was also seated at the table. I sat down facing Damat in his blue vizier's outfit as prince Ahmet seated himself at the head of the table, directly between me and my ally.

"There is no need to be silent under false pretences. I am aware that you are both acquainted with each other," said Ahmet with a slight smile.  
I said nothing and looked at Damat for support. He stammered in betrayal, "The Sehzade knows."

"How much?" I asked, acting as if the prince was not in our presence.

"Everything."

"Everything? But how, Damat?!"

"His Grace witnessed our conversation and did not fail to see you poison Hadim Ali Pasha's meal."

"He only has his eyes as proof, Damat. Any remains of evidence is out of the question and ceases to exist."  
The palm of my hand was itching to slap Damat for his stupidity. He was never one to question anybody, let alone authority. He would surrender to anything which challenged him even to some degree.

"If I may interrupt," said the prince, "the question which remains is should the starter be brought to the table. Whether I permit you to live after what you have done simply cannot be discussed on an empty stomach."

The meal was eaten in silence. For the first time in my life, I had lost my appetite. The starter of almond soup spoiled my taste buds despite being a favourite of mine. Even the Sultan's beloved 'yahni', a lamb and chicken stew with chickpeas and cumin, did not do much to satiate my gnawing stomach. I stole glances at Damat who kept his eyes firmly fixed on his plate like a guilty coward should.

"Now, we can discuss the matter on hand. It was an honourable thing which you did, my lady," declared Prince Ahmet after the meal was finished and he wiped the corner of his mouth with the tip of an embroidered handkerchief.

"I murdered your father's esteemed Grand Vizier. How could you possibly detect honour in such an act, your emminence?"

Ahmet smiled, his dark eyes slanting downwards somewhat, "All for the love of friendship."

"I have no friends."

"Ally, then. Even so, you are diligent. A woman like you deserves a promiment role in society, perhaps even in an Order of like-minded men."

I understood which Order he was referring to - the Order of the Knights Templar which Damat belonged to. They sought to create a 'perfect' world of humans using order and supremacy. Their centuries-long war with the Assassins was a ludicrous attempt to gain leverage for personal, individual intent. The last thing I needed was to be indoctrinated by fallacies.

"A generous offer but one which I must refuse." I replied.

Damat intervened with a low voice, looking me directly in the face with his glassy eyes, "You must accept, Lysistrata."

"I can already sense that she can prove to be a valuable asset. I strongly doubt she would accept the death penalty at such a youthful age." said Ahmet.

"Death or the Templar Order," stated Damat with a sigh.

There was an underlying sense of aspiration in Ahmet's words. He simply did not want my expertise - he wanted me. He was the most eligible bachelor in all of Turkey and spidery whispers around the street rumoured he was looking for a wife.

"I have a proposition which would appeal to you even more."

"Marriage."

Damat's jaw dropped. Ahmet raised his eyebrows.

"Let me explain, your grace. You have already delved into the shrouded curtain of my mind to find out my deepest desires - rank and riches. What better way to achieve that than marry a prince? It is every girl's dream, no? Entering in this agreement means I get what I want, the highest position a woman can gain in society as a _sultana_ (sultan's wife). It also means you, my prince, get what you want - my expertise and my constant presence in your life by your side. I may be a lone wolf but power of the mind, I do not lack. You give me my deserved label in this world and I will gladly ensure you are wearing a crown of a king on your head."


End file.
